Battle For Earth: Final Struggle
by br55ftw
Summary: Follows Mark Anson, a UNSC Marine who tries to survive the Human/Covenant War when it reaches Earth.
1. Chapter 1: Routine Mission

**0800 HOURS, NOVEMBER 6****TH****, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDER) \ SOL SYSTEM, EARTH \ FMR. COUNTRY OF BRAZIL, SOUTH AMERICA**

He woke up. His vision was blurred, and as Corporal Mark Anson rubbed his eyes to clear his vision, he thought about their mission. An easy task, take some heavy weapons and five Fury Tactical Nukes to Gamma Company, who desperately needed them to fend off the massive Covenant army that was assaulting them.

"Damn", he muttered. Mark staggered to his feet, and felt the side of his head; it was slick with blood.

He had no idea what had happened, they were driving in their Warthog M831 Troop Transport. They come around a bend, when suddenly there was a massive explosion and they were flipping end over end. He remembered being thrown from the 'Hog, and had blacked out soon after. He looked towards the wreckage, and saw PFC Mason and Private Watkins lying about 30 feet from the wreckage. He stumbled over, and saw Sergeant Collins slumped in the driver's seat. The windshield was covered in blood and Mark knew he was dead.

"_Where's the El-Tee"_, he thought, and when he rounded the Warthog, saw him. He had been hit by one of the Furys as their 'Hog crashed. His head was caved in, and the Fury, with a large bloodstain, sat nearby. That made him the highest ranking soldier, and the CO.

"Sir, what the hell happened?" Private Watkins said as he staggered over.

"I have no idea, is Mason okay?" Mark replied.

"He's got a concussion and a sprained ankle, but he'll live."

"Help me get these supplies", Mark said as he began to remove the Furys and crates.

Anson and Watkins worked for a half an hour to unload and unpack everything. When they finished, they had three BR55HB "Battle Rifles", four MA5C "Assault Rifles", two M6Ds, one SRS99DD "Sniper Rifle", and two day's rations.

"Gamma's about three kilometers, get Mason up, we need to move."

"Yes sir!" Watkins said as he ran off to help Mason.

Anson was pissed. He had two Privates, lost two officers, no Warthog, no communication, and had to go 3 kilometers through "friendly" territory. He pulled to charging handle on the BR55. It slid back and locked forward with a satisfying clack. "Watkins, let's move!" Anson yelled as he jogged off.


	2. Chapter 2: Rendezvous

**1300 HOURS, NOVEMBER 6****TH****, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDER) \ SOL SYSTEM, EARTH \ FMR. COUNTRY OF BRAZIL, SOUTH AMERICA**

They had been walking for several hours now, and had stopped many times. Anson sat down on a tree stump and let out a long sigh. Watkins plopped down next to him.

"How much farther?" Watkins asked.

"Should be at the end of the tree line here, let's keep moving."

They stood up, and continued walking. Anson saw movement, and waved to Watkins and Mason, to tell them to get down. He grabbed the SRS99D and crawled forward. Soon he had reached the edge of the forest. He hunkered down behind a bush and slowly pushed the branches away with the sniper rifle's barrel.

What he saw chilled him to the core.

Hundreds of dead Covenant and Marines lined the field. Several Jackals and Elites moved through the bodies, killing the wounded. He saw a Marine try to rise, raising his arms in surrender, but was impaled on the Elite's Energy Sword. Mark then waved up Watkins and Mason, and the three humans moved along the tree line. Up ahead, Anson saw marks on the forest floor.

"Warthogs" Mark said flatly.

"Where?" asked Mason.

"Gone, but it looks like they came through here." He reached and touched the track, "Recently."

They kept moving, and heard gunshots up ahead. They crawled forward, and saw two Marines fighting a squad of Jackals and Grunts. They were hunkered down behind a boulder, blindly firing in hopes of killing one. Mark aimed down the sniper's scope, and put the crosshairs on the lead Jackal's head. "Goodnight" he said, then pulled the trigger.

The instant it dropped, all hell broke loose. The Grunts ran in circles, and the Jackals tried to reorganize them. But a barrage of 7.62 and 9.5mm rounds from the Marines MA5Cs and Anson's squad's BR55HBs quickly put them down.

"Thanks for the assist", one Marine said after the Covenant troops were killed.

"No problem", Anson replied.

Now with two more Marines, the squad set out, following the tire tracks that were left by the Warthogs. After a few minutes, there were several explosions up ahead, and two Banshees rocketed just above the treetops.

"Shit, get down!" Anson yelled.

They dived for the bushes, but the Banshees hadn't seen them. The humans walked to where they'd heard the explosions, and found two destroyed 'Hogs, one was an M12, with a mounted M41. The other was a M831 Transport. The radio was still squawking, so Anson walked over to it, and picked it up.

"This is Red Two, calling Red Three and Four, are you there, over?"

"This is Corporal Mark Anson, UNSC Marines."

"Where's Red Three and-"

"They're dead, Red Two. Two 'Shees hit 'em, right in a clearing."

"Shit, we gotta move, take the radio Corporal, we'll contact you later!"

Anson heard gunshots and then static. "Let's move!" he yelled. They ran back to the trees. Then, Anson heard the Banshees coming back for another pass. He motioned for them to get down, and then aimed his sniper rifle at the lead "Shee. The vehicles made two passes, seemed to get bored with the flaming wreckage, and banked away.

"Corporal Anson, come in, I repeat, come in Corporal!"

"Corporal Anson here."

"We have a Pelican inbound, ETA 5 minutes."

"Thanks, we have 4 Marines, plus myself. One injured. We also have five Fury Tactical Nukes."

"Oh. Evac is on its way."

A few minutes later, the whine of a Pelican dropship's engines were heard. It touched down and lowered the ramp, revealing a tri-barreled M41 LAAG and several Marines. Five of them jumped out, as did something else.

"Is t-that a Spartan?" Mason asked, with a disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah" Anson said, staring in awe at the seven foot tall Spartan in its flat green MJOLNIR armor.

"Get in" the Spartan said in a normal but firm tone. Anson and the others climbed into the Pelican, and the craft rotated 180 degrees and blasted away into the afternoon sky.


	3. Chapter 3: The Chief

**1030 HOURS, NOVEMBER 17****TH****, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDER)\SOL SYSTEM, EARTH \ UNDETERMINED LOCATION IN KENYAN JUNGLES**

"Let's move it Marines!" the Sergeant yelled.

Recently promoted Sergeant Mark Anson groaned. His legs ached, and he felt like he'd just climbed Mount Everest. Twice.

"Sarge, how much farther?" a Marine asked.

"Far enough for you to lose 10 pounds at this rate!" Staff Sergeant Avery Johnson replied.

The Marine turned away, embarrassed. Most of the other Marines in the three squads that made up the team were laughing. They soon became serious, considering they had a mission which could win them them the war. Their mission was to locate the Master Chief, one of the last remaining Spartans.

* * *

Soon, they came upon a large trench, which had been recently carved out. The humans followed the trench until they reached a prone form: the Master Chief. He looked pitiful lying there, covered in dirt and mud. His armor had been covered in a dull black powder. That was a result of the heat of re-entry. A couple Marines started speaking in hushed voices about the Chief. "Stay sharp" Johnson said.

The Marines hustled to form a perimeter around the massive Spartan. A technician crouched next to the Chief, and delivered his report. It was grim.

"Corpsman" Johnson said.

"His armor's locked up. Gel layer could have taken most of the impact."

Johnson walked over and looked at the Chief. He crouched next to him, looking at the gold faceplate thoughtfully.

"I don't know Sergeant Major."

The Sergeant bent over, and popped out a small, innocent looking chip from the back of the Chief's neck. He sighed, and then said solemnly, "Radio for VTOL, heavy lift gear. We're not leaving him here."

Just as he finished, the Chief grabbed Johnson's arm, and began to stand up. "Yeah, you're not" the Chief said in a rough voice.

"Ha, crazy fool, why do you always jump? One of these days you're going to land on somethin' as stubborn as you are."

"And I don't do bits and pieces" he added.

After a few moments, he showed Chief the chip. "Where is she, Chief? Where's Cortana."

The Chief stared at the chip for a few seconds, looking as though he were in a flashback. Then with a gentle click, he took the chip from Johnson, and returned it to its housing. "She got left behind."

Johnson turned to the technician. "Corporal, make it quick" the Sergeant said.

"Sorry sir. Your armor's still in partial lockdown" the Corporal started.

* * *

Anson had walked off a ways. He was awed by the Spartan like everyone else, but bored with the technicalities of the Chief's advanced suit. He walked towards Bravo, the second squad. About halfway there, he was greeted by a collision with what felt like a tree. He fell down, and groaned. _"That hurt"_, he thought. He looked around. There was nothing in front of him but thin air.

"What the-" he started but was cut off by a massive creature that seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Sorry" it said, extending a massive hand. Anson extended his own, feeling slightly afraid of the giant. It gently grasped his hand, which was swallowed in its fist. Then it hoisted Anson to his feet with very little effort. Even at his full height of six feet, three inches, Anson was much shorter than the creature.

"I was not paying attention, human" it said with what appeared to be a grin.

"I-Its okay" Anson mumbled.

The creature, which Anson's shocked brain recognized as a Sangheili, or as they were called by humans, Elites, walked away slowly, chuckling to itself. The Elite faded into nothingness as it reactivated its camouflage. All Anson could say was "Whoa."

"Hehe" one of Bravo's Marines snickered. "First run-in with him?"

"Yeah" Anson said, still visibly shaken.

"Stuff it Marine" a gruff looking Sergeant said. "You almost pissed you pants the first time." The Marine turned away and began speaking to a comrade. Then the Sergeant turned to him. "Sergeant Scott Baker, everyone calls me Scotty. Come on over, I'll fill you in on the truce."

"Truce?" Anson said, incredulous.

"Yep. 'Bout a week ago the "Covenant Separatists" became our unofficial allies thanks to the Sarge over there." He gestured with his arm in the Sarge's general direction. "Well, also thanks to one big-ass Scarab he'd commandeered" the Marine added with a chuckle.

"A Scarab?" Anson had never seen a Scarab in reality, only in films he'd seen.

"Yeah, now he's here, helping us."

Anson heard a commotion over by the Chief and looked. He saw the Chief holding a pistol to the Arbiter's throat, ready to blast the alien's brains out. The Sergeant shouted something, and the Chief lowered the weapon. The Arbiter said something in what sounded like a serious tone, and then they all began to move. "C'mon Bravo!" Johnson yelled. "Join the party!"

Anson grabbed an MA5C, commonly referred to as the "Assault Rifle." He clacked the charging handle, and checked its ammo count: a full 32 rounds. He then jogged after the group, still shocked by his first experience with Elites that didn't involve bullets and plasma. It would not be his last.


	4. Chapter 4: RVP 117

"_Ah, Pelicans. While the ugliest, most chunky craft I have seen, they are a most beautiful and welcome sight after fighting for seven hours straight." –Unknown UNSC Marine_

**1100 HOURS, NOVEMBER 17****TH****, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDER)\SOL SYSTEM, EARTH \ UNDETERMINED LOCATION IN KENYAN JUNGLES**

Anson marched along with Bravo Squad and the other Marines. They were now tasked with escorting the Master Chief and the Arbiter to the rendezvous point that had been designated RVP-117. They were still several klicks from the RVP, and had encountered almost no Covenant troops. That had been a welcome surprise.

"Stay sharp Marines!" Johnson said over the COM.

Then Johnson stopped for a couple seconds, and nodded his head a few times. He raised a hand, ordering the platoon to a halt. Anson could tell he was getting a report, probably from the recon team that had been sent ahead. Finally, he jogged over to Anson.

"All squad leaders, on me now! You too Chief" he barked.

Once they were assembled in a rough semi-circle, with the Arbiter hanging within earshot, the Sergeant began: "Okay, my recon team spotted some Covie bastards up ahead. A few Brutes and six Jackal/Grunt squads is what my team reported. I think we can take them." He then gestured up a nearby hill. "Anson, I want you and your fireteam on that hill." He then looked to the Chief and nodded. The Spartan grabbed Anson's SRS99D sniper rifle, which he had been carrying, and extended it to Anson.

"Thanks" Anson said quietly.

"Alright, let's move out! Alpha, I wanted your asses in gear ten minutes ago!" Johnson barked.

Anson and his team jogged away. He quickly decided to take PFC Watkins, who was a better shot than most others and equipped with a BR55HB. The rest hung back, guarding the sniper team's rear.

He and Watkins kept low to the ground, and crawled the last 50 meters along the top of the ridge. As he looked down, he saw one of the Brutes; a Captain Major, according to his armor color. _"Well, isn't this your lucky day" _Anson thought with a sly grin as he peered down the sniper's Oracle scope.

* * *

The Brute Captain Major Vatarus had been a part of the Covenant for a long time. He had loved the smell of the human's fear as he had stalked them on the planet that the creatures called "Harvest." He had only been a lowly Brute Major back then, so many years ago.

A breeze blew through his fur, and he smiled as he delved into his past, thinking about his childhood. This planet was much more comfortable than the Brute homeworld of Doisac. But then his smile changed to a frown. He'd smelled something. A stench that he only associated with battle. The stench of humans. As he opened his mouth to warn his troops of the impending ambush, a single 14.5mm APFSDS round from Anson's sniper rifle silenced his cry, and his life.

* * *

"Scratch one Brute" Anson said as he swiveled the sniper to target another soldier. Watkins called in the kill conformation to the rest of the platoon, giving them the green-light to charge. Anson would later scratch a small line onto the sniper's barrel, which already had six marks along its length.

Just after Watkins' call, the remaining Marines charged the stunned Covenant soldiers. By the time the Marines had opened fire, the Covenant troops were still shocked by the humans charging towards them. Finally, one of the Brute Captains began yelling orders, and was quickly silenced by a round from Anson's SRS99D.

"Kick some Covenant ass!" Sergeant Baker yelled.

The Covenant troops were scattered and disorganized. After fifteen minutes, all of the original Covenant troops had been accounted for. The Covenant ended up with 46 casualties, of which all 46 were killed. The five Grunts that had survived were also killed. The humans had only three casualties, two of whom had died. They were quickly buried, and words were said, but then the platoon had to move on, and began towards the RVP.

* * *

A few hours later, they reached the RVP. Tired and exhausted, the Marines couldn't wait for the Pelican dropships. Soon, they got a call from Crow's Nest, the human base for this sector.

"Platoon Delta-2, this is Crow's Nest, come in."

Johnson took the mike from the platoon's radio man and spoke.

"Yeah, Delta-2 here. Sierra-117 and Arbiter are with us, and we are awaiting evac."

"Alright Delta-2, Pelican dropships are inbound, ETA 10 minutes."

After a couple minutes, the roar of the Pelican's engines could be heard. The dropships were one of the UNSC's most unattractive craft, but the 45 Marines in Platoon Delta-2 thought they were the most beautiful sight a man could hope for. Anson hopped aboard, and sat down heavily into the seat. He leaned his head against the bulkhead, and was asleep in five minutes.

**Author's Note: This is the first time I have written a FanFic, as well as in the Covenant perspective. I wanted to try it out. Please review!**


End file.
